


(Not) A Romantic Kind Of A Guy!

by DixieDale



Category: The Persuaders
Genre: Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Just how much could reasonably be expected from someone his cousin Kate had proclaimed 'unromantic'?  That is the question Brett Sinclair is pondering as Valentine's Day approaches.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	(Not) A Romantic Kind Of A Guy!

Hiding Danny's last pack of cigarettes in the freezer had taken only a little distraction and some quick slight of hand, although watching as his partner rummaged through the flat in an unsuccessful search had been irritating. Well, Danny did tend to make a mess sometimes. Equally irritating was the fact that HE couldn't indulge in a leisurely smoke in the meantime, having to pretend he ALSO was out to prevent Danny from just borrowing one from HIS cigarette case. 

Expressing an overwhelming desire for Chinese take-out from the place only a half block from the tobacco shop they frequented, along with lamenting "though it will probably be cold by the time it arrives. It was last time," hadn't taken any effort at all. Actually Chinese DID sound good, and while it was unlikely a falling street sign crushing the deliveryman's bicycle would hamper the delivery service as it had before, it was a handy excuse.

As soon as that front door closed, Brett hurried to take full advantage of Danny's being gone. He didn't expect his partner to be gone all that long, just to the tobacco shop on the next corner over and their favorite take-out restaurant, and there really was no time to spare. 

After all, Lord Sinclair had plans he needed to put into place, and that meant making a few private phone calls. In particular, that meant calling his estate manager to get a few things in order for the upcoming Valentine's Day. It wouldn't do to leave things to the last minute, and this was hardly as simple as ordering up a box of chocolates or a dozen red roses or something of that line. 

Actually, he hadn't even intended to do that except through Charles, his usual go-to man for such things, and even then only for the list of various women Brett thought would be hurt if he neglected such a romantic and sentimental holiday. No, he didn't FEEL such a romantic sentiment for any of them, but one in his position did have a responsibity, after all. And an image to uphold, it went without saying.

He'd already submitted his usual list over a week ago - names, addresses, and items he preferred to send - chocolates, or flowers, or whatever else he saw in that handy little guide Charles put together. 

It was a work of art in and of itself, that guide, and there were those who, although perhaps never actually using Charles' services, preferring to perhaps pay their mortgage or provide for their offspring's education, collected it from year to year when the original owner discarded it. 

'Charles DelHampton's Guide to Gifts for the Discriminating Individual' it was called, and a lavish and highly imaginative little piece of fancy it was. The small private publishing house that produced it each year depended on that select run to bring their year-end bottom line to a satisfying result. It truly was a work of art, one that let them hold their heads high at the quiet acclaim it produced in certain circles.

Oh, that guide! In full color, of course, typeset in an elegant script on fine paper with just the right amount of sheen. Only two dozen pages or so, but each item therein was of outstanding quality, and the variety of what was offered was unique. 

Of course, Charles included a lot of the usual things, such as candy and flowers, (although even the items at the lowest end of the scale were wildly expensive from the common person's perspective). Even the chocolates were of a price well beyond what most would consider acceptable, some being wrapped in real (edible) rice paper-fine gold leaf, or in one particular case, 'Cleopatra's Delight', one dozen mixed light and dark chocolates filled with orchid and champagne creme laced with gold flecks. Yes, of course, they were REAL gold flecks; whatever would have been the purpose otherwise??

The floral offerings included some of the most rare available, and, if some of the flowers themselves were not as rare as others, since roses were an established favorite for this occasion, the addition of diamond 'dew-drops', (actually fine diamond earrings with the clasps cleverly hidden out of sight), or the jewel-laden brooches in the form of various insects or lizards, coyly hiding among the foilage, just peeking their bright diamond-encrusted heads out, brought the arrangement to an acceptable level of elegance and exclusivity.

Some of the other things illustrated were far more unusual, with the discreet addition of 'available upon request' instead of the price in pounds or dollars or other currency displayed by the more mundane offerings. Of course, 'mundane' was a relative term. 

Brett had raised a skeptical eye at one such item - that 'rappelling excursion down the side of an active volcano', had even questioned Charles about that. Oh, the details of the picnic basket that would accompany you, one laden with exquisite delicacies and the finest of champagne, had seemed well enough, but he and Daniel had some experience with active volcanos and thought that a rather iffy proposition, perhaps more than the recipient might truly be prepared for. It had certainly been more than Lord Sinclair had been prepared for. He would never have engaged in such folly if it hadn't been necessary to extract Daniel before the next eruption.

He had been somewhat reassured that "we have included that just for added color, Lord Sinclair; we've had no requests for particular item, and hopefully will not. Oh, I imagine I could arrange it if we DO, but it's hardly likely, is it? And of course, the necessary disclaimers and waivers would be a nuisance."

Yes, Charles could handle Lord Sinclair's usual list. That wasn't the issue. For the various ladies on that list, Charles would no doubt do splendidly. It was the one person NOT on that list who was giving Lord Brett Sinclair second thoughts. For that person, if he did anything, he probably needed something a bit more personal.

And he had been doing some serious thinking about that. It was only natural, after that remark from Cousin Kate. Several remarks, actually - being a writer, Kate was rarely at a loss for words. It seemed she wasn't overly impressed when he'd shared his disapproval of the plans she was making for her and Margot, Kate's best friend and long-time lover, for Valentine's Day on the 14th. 

He'd only been trying to help, perhaps steer his cousin in a more reasonable direction, as there was no question in his mind that those plans were NOT reasonable. Never mind the excessive sentimentality, (something which hardly befitted a Sinclair, even a female Sinclair!), the sheer expense involved must be staggering! Oh, not for him; it would have been a mere drop in the proverbial bucket to him, but Kate surely didn't have his resources. 

They had never discussed finances as such; well, one didn't. But there was no doubt that in the Sinclair family, the money, like the rest of the assets, rested securely within the hands of the males. 

Kate wasn't destitute, of course; her father's estate doled out an annual allowance of some sort, as was usual for the Sinclair females, although come to think on it, he HAD heard whispers of her sending it back just as regularly as it arrived. Kate was as proud as she was stubborn, he knew that quite well, so the rumors might just be true, especially since there were also whispers that there were some stern strings attached to that allowance. Still, he knew she had been left an inheritance by her grandmother. And when he thought about it, he assumed those quaint murder mysteries she wrote brought in some sort of income. 

Still, this plan of hers, all for one day, even if it was Valentine's Day, was quite beyond reason for one not in the same financial position HE was in, and honestly, HE wouldn't have considered it, not for one person. He might do something similar, yes, probably quite a bit more, but spread out over several deserving ladies - in fact, HAD done so, on various occasions.

Convincing his strong-minded cousin, though, was a thankless and probably hopeless task. Still, he tried.

"Surely something less, quite a bit less, overblown would serve just as well, Kate! Something more on the scale of a sonnet versus this, this . . ." He'd struggled for the right comparison, then triumphantly announced "this production more suited to an overwrought musical stage show, what I believe is called a theatrical extravaganza!" 

She hadn't taken that well, though she probably wouldn't have preferred the first comparison that had come to his mind {"plans rather more elaborate than preparations for D-Day!"}. 

Just as well that first comparison had only come to his mind and never passed his lips. Kate had a temper, a strong throwing arm, and excellent aim; his younger cousin had clipped him more than once during the course of the years, and that crystal vase on the table next to her would have left a mark. He still bore the scar right along his hairline where she'd gotten him with a paperweight when she'd been ten or so for some relatively minor offence on his part. 

As he remembered it, it had all come about when he'd expressed some reservations about her carefully-scribed notebook of short stories, along with her firm declaration in the Preface of one day becoming a published author. No, not of romance novels. Murder mysteries, she had insisted. Perhaps his words might have been considered a trifle condescending; certainly his suggestion that she would be better off doing something that was more suited to a Sinclair, and to a female Sinclair at that - perhaps, working in watercolours? Tapestry? Still, he was of the strong opinion that she had overreacted, even though he had taken and read the stories without her permission, especially since that thrown paperweight was a valuable Clichy millefiore antique! 

This time she had refrained from beaning him with the vase or anything else, but had been rather cutting in her verbal response, and Kate, being an author, did have a knack for words. She'd used quite a few in rebutting his advice, none of them, he was sure, in the least bit fair or applicable to HIM. One word in particular, 'unromantic', he found more than a little insulting, along with the others she used in conjunction with that term. 'Dolt!' stood out in his memory. Yes, she had really called HIM an 'unimaginative, unromantic dolt'! Really!

Still, for some reason, that word kept nagging at him, long after he headed back to London. 

"Unromantic!! ME! Can you believe she actually said that, Daniel??! How absurd!" he had exclaimed indignantly while relating the whole episode to Danny Wilde. It hadn't helped alleviate his indignation one bit that obviously Danny thought the whole thing was funny as hell, couldn't stop laughing at the scene Brett had described.

Of course, Brett KNEW his cousin was wrong in claiming he was being, indeed WAS, unromantic. 

Why, he'd always prided himself on being HIGHLY romantic, and there were any number of women around the world who could testify to that. It was simply that he was Lord Brett Sinclair, a calm and dignified lord of the realm, and as such, wasn't cut out for messy, emotional scenes, preferring to express his romantic nature in a calm and dignified manner, primarily by the presentation of expensive gifts. Surely nothing said 'romance' quite as eloquently as a diamond trifle or two. That didn't mean he wasn't romantic, simply that he was well aware of what was expected of a man of his family, his background and position.

But was the rest of what she'd claimed closer to the mark? That he was unimaginative to the point of being stodgy, at least in affairs of the heart? Was he truly so calculating that he gauged any such expression down to the millimeter, depending on what he logically thought was most appropriate in that particular situation? Did his logic truly outweigh his inner romantic? And was he making a huge mistake in allowing his past efforts in that department guide him in his current situation? With Daniel?

In other words, was that dignity he so treasured sending out the wrong message to his partner, - a message that he took his and Daniel's relationship lightly - perhaps even viewed it as being of less consequence than it truly was?

{"Could it possibly be that Kate was right? Perish the thought! But - still - what if?"}

If so, where did that leave Brett? Was he truly so set in his ways, so intent on avoiding sentimentality and maintaining that dignified demeanor that he could come up with nothing truly special or unique in the way of a meaningful Valentine's celebration for Daniel and himself? 

Although, he really didn't see anything wrong with just having a nice dinner, possibly in Cannes or Monte Carlo, followed by a shared evening at the casino. Yes, last year he'd marked the occasion in rather dramatic fashion, but that had been an exception, and he really hadn't thought about it becoming a yearly thing. {"I mean, how often is a man really expected to spread rose petals for his lover??"}

Surely, after Year One, (if they could count their on-again, off-again, on-again time together in years as Kate and Margot did), surely a nice quiet dinner with a good wine was sufficient. He knew couples who did that, year after year, it becoming rather a fond tradition. Why, he even knew couples who had abandoned any celebration of Valentine's Day whatsoever after even the briefest of times! (He was uneasily aware several of those couples seemed to have abandoned a great deal else as well - affection, camaraderie, shared accommodations, sometimes the relationship entirely, but surely that wasn't ALWAYS the case!)

And was it really so wrong to be a staunch traditionalist? Frankly, he couldn't see that Kate's plans were all that unique, just, well, overblown! 

He certainly knew he couldn't see himself doing anything similar. It wasn't so much the expense; he didn't count that. But really! Such an extravagent outpouring of sentimentality! Surely anything of that nature would be embarrassing, not only to himself but to Daniel as well. Nevermind Daniel didn't seem to embarrass easily - perhaps at all. In fact, a man less likely to be overcome with chagrin at an uncomfortably emotional scene - - - Nevermind.

Kate's plans HAD been extravagent and sentimental, even she admitted that, though not regretting any tiny part of what she had put into motion. Six years they'd been together, a shared adventure begun with a chance meeting at a coffee shop when the attendant had apologetically asked if she could seat the two together due to lack of space. Three cups of coffee and two cinnamon rolls later, their fate was set, and neither had regretted it, not once. Kate, who'd never thought to find even a compatible room mate, had found her soul mate. Margot, who'd been about to embark on a dreary affair with an old boyfriend, just out of boredom, found her life and her plans wildly changed. Now plans were in place to celebrate that. What Margot's plans were, Brett didn't know, but as for Kate, she had been most forthcoming.

So, there was to be a small illustrated volume concerning Victorian flower language left at Margot's place setting at breakfast. Six deliveries of floral offerings, spaced throughout the day, one for each of Kate and Margot's years together, each with a specific message couched in that same Victorian flower language - romantic love, everlasting fidelity, fond hope, steadfast friendship, etc. A dinner at the fanciest restaurant in the finest Edinburgh hotel, with reservations in a private box at the concert hall afterwards to hear their favorite composer's music under the direction of a world-renowned conductor, with an equally world-class orchestra performing. Then, back to the hotel for a sojourn in a suite specially decked out for the occasion, wine chilled and waiting, a tray of lavish chocolate desserts for the two women to share, along with a small vial of that delightful perfume Margot had been wearing when they first met, a perfume now produced in such tiny quantities that it was almost impossible to get even if you could afford the price.

(Brett was fairly sure the entire advance for that latest murder mystery, perhaps a goodly portion of the proceeds of others previously published, had to have gone up in smoke in making THOSE arrangements! Not that he was crass enough to ask, of course, but he couldn't see how it could have been otherwise!)

Somehow Brett just couldn't see himself doing all of that - really, much of any of that. None of it really seemed to suit, in any case. Danny didn't fancy flowers all that much, and certainly not perfume. A fine meal, shared in congenial surroundings, was available to them whenever they so desired, and they frequently did. The same with attending a concert or a play. And while those scarlet rose petals on a white silk sheet had gone over splendidly last year, Brett DID hate to repeat himself. {"And chocolate is really something to be avoided if one insists on those white silk sheets! Or ANY silk sheets for that matter!"} thinking of his own royal blue ones, wincing at the thought of the resultant smears.

Kate's impatient advice had been simply, "no one expects you to turn wildly romantic overnight, Brett; I'm not sure you have it in you. But make a effort! Decide what you really FEEL about your relationship, cousin, what you would like Danny to KNOW about how you feel. Then perhaps you can decide what could best show Danny that! Maybe that WOULD be something simple, something traditional rather than something wildly romantic. You are the one to decide that. But don't just brush this off! Knowing Danny, HE won't let the day pass without coming up with something special for YOU, though knowing Danny, I certainly wouldn't hazard a guess as to what that might be."

Brett had thought about that, a great deal actually, on the trip back and afterwards - how he felt, what he wanted Danny to know, and how he could show all of that. The thing was, Brett Sinclair had always tried to be a dignified individual, was highly uncomfortable being anything else. Not only would it be out of character, he knew he could never pull off some theatrical declaration, exclaiming poetry, strumming a guitar and singing love ballads. Never mind he HAD sung in the choir at university, those had mostly been madrigals!

It had taken considerable thought (and even more Scotch!) before it came to him, before he sat back, smiling, realizing he had come up with what was surely the most romantic gift one could ever give one's lover. And perhaps best of all (or at least a very strong point in its favor), the gift would speak for itself, not require any fervent, possibly embarrassing, declarations from him in order for Daniel to understand just what he meant to Brett, what their being together truly meant.

It would mean breaking with tradition, yes, and there was sure to be fervent opposition, but what was the point in being Lord Brett Sinclair if he couldn't overrule petty and intrusive quibbling?! It was his life, after all. (Perhaps it WAS the Scotch; none of that seemed quite like Lord Brett Sinclair, at least not the Lord Brett Sinclair his family would have recognized. Though, perhaps the Scotch was only a small part of that transformation.)

As he sat there thinking of that romantic gesture, his smile was as broad as a Scottish moor, as satisfied as - actually, he wasn't sure what it could be termed as satisfied AS, but he felt it was an absolutely brilliant idea, an idea more romantic than had been considered in - in - well, at least in recent years.

His estate manager, upon hearing what Lord Sinclair was directing him to arrange, was, understandably, not enthused. Actually, horrified - mortified - totally appalled was more the case! 

Coleman Siddings Jeffers, the current estate manager, was also a traditionalist, at least if not more so than the Sinclair family he served. It was only to be expected, of course; his was the sixth generation to serve the Sinclairs in such a capacity. There is a saying, something about being more of a royalist than the king - that saying more than personified the Jeffers family, although referring only to the Sinclair family, not some other perhaps lesser beings who might temporarily occupy the throne!

Jeffers offered his polite, extremely respectful, objections, but Sinclair was determined and held his ground.

"Yes, I know it's not the accepted thing, Jeffers. I understand that. I also realize it will be inconvenient, will require extra labor, special preparations. I understand there will be that irregularity about my prior reservation to be sorted out at some time. YES, I agree, it will be quite expensive, and there will most likely be objections from others in the family. However, it is my bank draft you will be drawing against, after all, not theirs."

Jeffers regrouped, bringing up an additional point or two he thought would certainly make Lord Sinclair reconsider. Seemingly it did not.

"That is all true, but also quite irrelevant, Jeffers. I have quite made up my mind to it, even if it does mean taking accommodations in a less, dare I say, fashionable area. To be fashionable is not everything, after all, Jeffers, nor is tradition, and this is far too important to be dictated by such things."

Jeffers gaped, staring blankly at the phone, wondering if this was truly Lord Brett Sinclair, and if so, what on earth had gotten into the man??! Had he suffered an injury, perhaps? Been in an accident that had required he be on strong medication of some sort?? To accept less than the most fashionable, the most suitable to his position? Declaring tradition not important! Really??!!!

Finally, after a tedious amount of time and argument, Jeffers had conceded. Brett knew the man would, the estate manager just needed to present the expected point of view before conceding to the reality of it all. And Sinclair couldn't fault the man for that, not really. It was part of his duty, after all, if one looked at it objectively. Still it was a relief to have finally talked the man into simply following instructions - well, perhaps it wasn't so much 'talked him into' as it was 'issuing a firm, uncompromising order', but as long as it got the job done. There wasn't a great deal of time to waste, after all!

"Yes, I am sure you will; you have always been quite dependable. Now, it is fully understood what I require? Very well. Get to it, now, my good man. I'll not quib at the expense. I expect the accommodations, all the arrangements, ready and waiting when I arrive on the 14th."

Danny heard that part, the tail end and a little more of an obviously much longer telephone conversation, as he came through the door with the two large bags containing carriers of Chinese take out. Kwan Yin Palace had a celebration of some sort going on, all sorts of special dishes being prepared, and he hadn't been able to make up his mind between ordering their usual favorites or trying something new, so he compromised, Danny Wilde-style, and did both. Hey, the place hadn't failed them yet! 

Of course, that meant they'd be eating Chinese leftovers for two days or more, but he could think of a heck of a lot worse. In fact, two days when they didn't have to worry about meals, going out or ordering in, meant two days when they could focus on other things. Maybe make up for being in separate countries for the past six weeks! Sounded good to him!

{"The 14th. Valentine's Day. Huh, wonder what he has in the works? Expensive accommodations - maybe His Lordship is feeling romantic."}

Danny didn't mind that, not when he knew it was him Brett was likely to be getting romantic about. At least, he sure as heck hoped it was him! Their outside excursions for romantic interludes were happening less and less, and at least for Danny, more often ended somewhere other than a bedroom and with a lot less than he'd have been satisfied with a while back. He kinda figured it might be the same for Brett, though they'd never actually sat down and laid all their cards on the table about that. Every time it seemed they'd said it all, it seems there was a whole heck of a lot they HADN'T said, not straight out anyway.

If nothing else, and there was a heck of a lot else, he really didn't want a repeat of that incident with Dolores Quintera! SHE might not have realized, but HE sure had! Boy, when she'd twitted him about calling her by someone else's name in the middle of a heated night, that "who is she, this 'Brette'? Is she beautiful? Twice tonight you have called me by her name". Boy! He make that mistake, a totally unconscious mistake, with someone who was acquainted with the Sinclair/Wilde 'business' partnership, it would ALL hit the proverbial fan! Brett would NEVER forgive him!

"So, what's up, Your Lordship?" he asked cheerily, letting the door snap closed, alerting Sinclair that he was back.

Brett's smile was one of deep satisfaction. "Oh, nothing of dire importance, Daniel. Simply taking care of a bit of business while waiting for you to return. Now, what did you bring us? I'm starving!"

Valentine's Day was there before you knew it, and each man was more than satisfied with the plans they'd made. Danny hadn't even argued about taking a long drive, though getting Brett's assurances they'd be back by early evening. Brett had given him a long look of inquiry when Danny had insisted on that, but Danny had simply grinned that 'I'm up to something, but you'll just have to wait' grin of his, and Brett let it slide. He hadn't intended to remain away overnight anyway, just this one stop on his agenda, followed by a nice ordered-in dinner at home from someplace agreeable with an excellent bottle of wine from his wine rack. Doing more would just be, well, gilding the lily, so to speak.

Stopping the car, Brett paused, hands still on the wheel. All of a sudden, he was a little nervous. Well, perhaps most would be, outside that structure holding the remains of so many of the Sinclair family, though Brett was quite accustomed to the place. All the males of the Sinclair family were interred there. No, not all, of course, for as he had once quipped in response to Danny's question in that regard, "only the dead ones, Daniel."

Danny trailed along, not sure why they were visiting the Sinclair family mausoleum on Valentine's Day instead of getting on with whatever big romantic surprise Brett had planned, but he shrugged, figuring Brett would get around to things in his own time. As long as they were back at the flat in time for his own surprise, he was good. Up til now, he'd been more focused on his own surprise than any Brett might have in store anyway. After all, Brett did tend to be a little reserved in that arena, just like his Cousin Kate had argued, but that didn't mean Danny had to do the same, though talking the building manager into cooperating had taken some doing.

No, Danny had a surprise of his own planned back at the flat - had Brett's promise they'd be back there by 7:00 pm at the latest - but he had to admit, now his curiosity was driving him crazy! There seemed to be SOMETHING in the works. Brett could be as unsentimental as a doorknob most of the time, but then sometimes, out of the blue, KAPOW! He'd hit you with something - a word, a look, a gesture - that was so 'right there', as the saying went, that it left you stunned.

They went in through the gates, through the wide door, then down into a section Danny hadn't visited before. 

"Thought all your immediate family, all the big-shots anyhow, was in that section off to the left, Your Lordship, where your spot is. This is new territory, looks like," noting the fresh chisel marks on the walls, the clear marks of new stonework.

Brett cleared his throat awkwardly, "yes, this is a different section. It is not new, perhaps, but rarely used. Only once, actually. That anteroom off to the side there, that is where my great-uncle Tobin and his third-cousin Tobias were laid to rest. They were as near to being twins as you can be when coming from different parents, although not perhaps in looks - Tobin was light while Tobias was dark. According to the family records, they were born on the same day, and eventually they died on the same day as well, when they were but a year younger than I am now. 

"They grew up on neighboring estates, you see. They were always together, hardly took a step without the other alongside. They died when an unexpected storm blew up on the loch while they were out sailing. 

"The inscription, there above the archway, speaks to that. Most eloquently, I have always thought. The words came from Tobin's journal where he laid out his request for when the time should come. Not the most fashionable of locations, of course, but the only space available for a double interment, especially on short notice. Well, the family has always thought long term, and most spaces are allocated at one's birth, as was my own. Of course, Tobin had his pre-elected spot next to Great-Great-Uncle Josiah; Tobias was to be several chambers over in the section closest to Great-Great-Uncle Constantine, I believe."

"So, if they already had their own spots, why come up with a different one? Someone outbid them for those spots, maybe? The other wing closed for the annual dusting and polishing?" Danny asked jokingly.

"The inscription above the archway will perhaps explain," Brett offered quietly, now very apprehensive of how his actions would be perceived.

Danny walked over, held up his battery lamp to read aloud - "No other hand in mine bore me such welcome. No other spirit kept such eager pace with mine own. No place of honor suited me more than the one by your side, and there shall I remain, wherever life and death and eternity may lead us."

Danny scratched his head, a little taken aback by the sentimental words, quite different than the more dignified, even aloof ones he'd seen marking the other resting places within the Sinclair family vault. He figured the prize in that regard had to be the inscription over the bier where it was written, 'Augustus Revington Sinclair, 1546-1615. He died, finally.' Danny kept forgetting to ask Brett whether the stone mason had gotten bored, just to leave it at that, or perhaps had died himself before he could finish the job, or if there was some wacky story behind the words, but he was hesitant to hear the answer. Sometimes he just didn't know how much of what Brett told him about the Sinclair family history was true. 

Brett cleared his throat awkwardly and moved forward to a matching archway, "this one is new, however. Another 'double', you might say. There is no room for that in the front section, where my space was allocated upon my birth - not with this particular layout." 

He stood there, a little uneasy now, all of a sudden not nearly as sure of himself as he had been such a short time ago. In fact, he was more than a little apprehensive, wondering if maybe he should give up trying to be romantic - wondering if maybe he should give up Scotch as well.

Danny walked over, peered in to take a good look at the empty space inside, the wide carved bier, easily capable of holding two caskets, then squinted to read the inscription above the arched entrance. 

"Hey, Your Lordship! Someone really goofed! Got the same words above the door here as the other! Boy, someone's gonna be miffed about that, I bet."

He turned to look up at a flushing Brett Sinclair. 

"Actually - well, actually, I requested that it read the same, Daniel. It seemed to express what needed to be said better than any words I could come up with on my own. Although, if you don't care for the idea, of course . . ."

It was then Danny looked closer, saw what he'd missed before, the tiny white card, no bigger than a business card, resting in the slight niche beside the arched entrance -

"Reserved for Lord Brett Sinclair and Daniel Wilde - - together wherever life and death and eternity might lead."

Standing there, stunned, he looked at that card, that wide space, then turned to look at the sandy-haired aristorcrat now looking as if he wanted to sink through the stone flooring below.

Danny shook his head in amazement, then commented ruefully, "you know, kid, your cousin Kate is a pretty smart cookie most of the time, but she sure had it pegged wrong this time! Boy! Talk about one romantic guy!"

Later, back in the flat they shared more often than not, Danny shook his head affectionately at the sandy-haired aristocrat mixing drinks at the side bar. "Makes my gift look a little lame," he lamented jokingly. "Oops, better not say THAT; probably bad luck and all, considering!" he laughed.

"I hardly think so, Daniel, in either regard. Oh, I admit I was taken aback by the presentation of that new addition to my stable, especially to have learned you named him 'Elvis'. But once you explained the significance, well, I was quite pleased, honored, I assure you. Especially since the living room carpet remained undamaged."

The story of Danny's tour as 'Elvis' on that visit to New York City and his Aunt Sophie, along with that smooth personal rendition of 'Love Me Tender', HAD gone a long way to assuaging any confusion as to why that gangly bay colt had been led in after that romantic dinner. 

He still wasn't sure how Danny had convinced the building's management to let the groom bring 'Elvis' up in the padded freight elevator, much less allow the youngster into their elegant flat. {"It probably involved delivery of a great deal of money and an even greater delivery of Danny's gift of persuasion."}

Eventually, with Elvis now comfortably in the back of a traveling trailer and bound for the most agreeable and convenient of the Sinclair estates, they'd retired to the bedroom and opened the brandy Danny had obtained for the occasion. 

Brett raised a wary brow at that lavish plate of chocolate desserts Danny presented with a wide grin and a triumphant "Ta-Da!!" - ganache-coated eclairs puffed with whipped cream, ripe cherries oozing jelly and half-encased in a super-dark shell, glistening wine-drenched strawberries surrounding a small silver chafing dish of warm creamy fudge, twin bowls of powered sugar alongside.

Brett sighed, assumed a regretful, though resigned, air. 

"I suppose the sheets will never be the same." 

Well, being of his favorite dark blue silk, that was surely a given! (Though he seemed to remember there was a sale on at Herrods next month, so perhaps that wasn't such a tragedy as expected.)

Danny wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously, "they'd darned well better NOT be, Your Lordship! I got expectations, ya know! This IS Valentine's Day!"

**Author's Note:**

> Kate Sinclair was introduced in tv episode 'A Death In The Family'  
> Prior Valentine's Day events come from story 'What Fools These Mortals Be'


End file.
